The Amber Room
by Teedus
Summary: Nolan Hart is Drake's brother. We meet him in an explosive situation! Should I keep writing or stop?


Nolan Hart was tied to a chair.

The holster around his shoulders was empty, and his head was covered by a flower sack. The small room he was being held in was lit by a single lamp that swung back and forth from the ceiling like a pendulum, and a heavy bass vibrated through the wet cement walls.

The _drip-drip-drip _from the ceiling was his only company.

Then suddenly the door across the room opened and a dark man in a red suit marched in. His face was scarred and his hair was thinning. He stopped just inside the room and snapped his fingers over his head; the door immediately closed behind him.

He casually approached Nolan and lifted the sack off him.

"The _infamous _Mr. Hart," he sang. He tossed the sack aside and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. "Never a pleasure meeting you, is it? You obviously know who I am."

Nolan squinted in the light.

"Satan?" he moaned.

The man smiled and replaced the handkerchief.

"Of all the nights to try and steal from me," he scoffed. "Do you know the importance of the meeting you're keeping me from, Mr. Hart?"

Nolan sighed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I was just looking for the bathroom and turned the wrong corner."

The man reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small handgun.

"Do you always carry firearms to the bathroom, Mr. Hart?"

"Can't be too careful these days."

"I know what you're after" the man continued, waving the gun in his face. "I do pride myself in being the proprietor of fine objects – in essence, a thief's wet dream. But do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to fall for an attempt this _pathetic_?"

"The thought crossed my mind," said Nolan. "Look, Machina – can I call you that? Or is it that only for your friends? Does anyone actually even_ like_ you?"

Machina kneeled in front of him.

"You've got a big mouth," he whispered. "But maybe you're right; maybe you're here by accident and this is all a misunderstanding?"

Nolan sighed.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you. I knew you'd understand. Come untie me."

Machina laughed.

"I'm meticulous, so let's find out shall we?" He turned to the door. "Bring him in!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room.

The door opened and a young man was tossed inside. He fell to the floor, unable to keep his balance with his hands and feet tied and his mouth gagged. Like Nolan, blood covered his shirt and a long cut ran down his cheek.

Machina turned back to Nolan and smiled at him.

"Tell me, Mr. Hart. Do you know this man?" he asked.

"Is he famous?" Nolan asked evenly. "Looks famous. No – don't tell me, let me guess."

Machina stood tall. He walked backwards towards the man on the floor, his eyes on Nolan, and kneeled beside him. He pulled the gag from the young man's mouth and then grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head upwards.

"Talk," he said.

The prisoner nodded.

"He paid me to get him onboard," he said.

Nolan shook his head.

"Okay, I admit it looks bad but –"

"ENOUGH!" Machina shouted.

"You got me," said Nolan. "But do you really want to do—"

Machina tossed the prisoner aside, stood up and pointed the gun at his head.

"Do you know what I do to employees who aid thieves?" he said.

"Wait!" the prisoner shouted. "You said you'd let me go if I told you everything!"

"Clearly," said Machina, "I _am_ letting you go."

"You don't have to do this," said Nolan.

The bang echoed off the walls; Nolan looked away as the prisoner's body slammed into the ground.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" he shouted.

"You made me do this!" Machina shouted back. "You think I like this?"

He pointed the gun at Nolan who stared him down.

"Go to hell," said Nolan and spat at his feet.

The bullet barely passed his head; Nolan cringed as the bang echoed in his ears.

Machina stomped towards Nolan and punched him in the gut with the butt of the gun. Nolan leaned forward and coughed, hard. Machina ignored him and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a tattered diary and waved it in the air.

"This is what you want?" he mocked. "Take a good look because it'll be your last."

Nolan whispered something.

"What?" said Machina.

Nolan continued whispering. Machina leaned in.

"Speak up!"

"I tie better knots," said Nolan.

He knocked his head against Machina's and sent him reeling in pain. Panicked, Machina fired blindly into the air. Nolan ducked and untied the rope at his ankles. A bullet hit the light above him, sending it swinging it back and forth madly.

Nolan pushed off the chair before Machina could recover and charged him; they went flying to the floor. Nolan wrestled the gun from Machina's hand then landed a right hook across his face. Machina recovered quickly and stamped his foot against Nolan's knee.

Both men were on the ground panting and moaning, their shadows dancing wildly around them.

The door burst open and one of Machina's men rushed inside and raised an automatic rifle. Nolan was ready for him. He shot the man in the head then turned the gun back on Machina.

"Give it to me!" he panted.

"Fine," said Machina. "You want it? It's not worth the trouble. But you're going to disappoint some important people who are bidding for the journal right now! I give it to you and I'm a dead man anyway."

"That's your luck."

They stared at each other. Machina smacked his lips then reached inside his jacket.

"Slowly," said Nolan.

Machine pulled out a grenade, yanked the pin, threw it at Nolan.

"Shit!"

Nolan rolled out of the way, got up, and ran after Machina who closed the door behind him.

Trapped.

"No, no, no!" Nolan shouted.

The grenade went off and Nolan was thrown against the door. He slumped to the floor as a jet of water blasted into the room from the other end.

Nolan got to his feet and tried the door again but it wouldn't open. He felt dizzy and fell against the wall. When he put his hand to his head, blood came away from it. Nolan was seeing doubles of everything.

"Damn," he moaned.

He looked around wildly. Nolan couldn't see how he was going to get out of the room before it filled up and drowned him. And just as the thought passed his mind, a spark shot into the air and the room was engulfed in darkness.

The cold water was now up to his waist.

Nolan felt around the walls looking for anything that would help him. But in the darkness he couldn't see anything. Then suddenly from the corner of his eye he saw a blinking red light flashing on and off from the other end of the room.

Nolan waded the water. The pressure from the damaged wall was strong and kept pushing him back, so he dove in and went underneath it. When he came up for air he was at the other end of the room. The flashing light belonged to an emergency system shining through a vent.

But the vent was locked.

Nolan hammered against the vent with the butt of the gun. Slowly the metal begun to give, but the water was already up to his neck.

He only had seconds.

"Was-it-worth-it?" he panted, banging against the vent. "Always-getting-into-this-mess!"

The water was too high.

Nolan took a deep breath as the rest of the room was swallowed by water. He lifted his legs and kicked the vent as hard as he could. Finally, it gave way. He climbed inside and crawled through the ducts. A few feet in he was able to breathe again, but the water was chasing after him quickly. He turned a corner and found himself in front of another vent leading into a room filled with crates.

"Perfect," said Nolan.

He kicked the vent open and dropped into the room.


End file.
